


Shift the Tide

by steveandbucky



Series: in any version of reality [22]
Category: Captain America (Movies)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Alternate Universe - No Powers, Amputee Bucky Barnes, Angst and Fluff and Smut, Beach Holidays, Beach House, Bisexual Steve Rogers, First Kiss, First Meetings, Gay Bucky Barnes, Getting Together, M/M, Post-Serum Steve Rogers, Summer Romance, Summer Vacation, Vacation, Work In Progress
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-08-11
Updated: 2019-03-06
Packaged: 2019-06-25 21:15:51
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 10,246
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15649083
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/steveandbucky/pseuds/steveandbucky
Summary: The last thing Steve needs right now is an unexpected guest. He's had a hell of a year. He's come to this beach housespecificallyto get away from people.But Bucky is not exactly like most people.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [Sunshine and Snowclouds](https://archiveofourown.org/works/6418087) by [orphan_account](https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account). 



> WARNING: gun violence (only mentioned). WIP so look out for possible future warnings I guess?

 

 

 

 

 

Bucky has decided that this guy is straight.

He’s too good looking to be remotely gay, for one. Bucky has never been that lucky. Plus, there’s nothing about him that points to any homosexual tendencies. He’s clean cut, ripped as fuck, courteous, and very much like a boy next door type of thing. And not the kind you see in porn.

It makes it easier to linger by the window at the ass crack of dawn, watching him take laps in the pool, back muscles rippling as he swims from one end of the pool to the other and then back again. Bucky had woken up by an uncomfortably full bladder, and caught sight of the blonde as he’d walked past the window. It annoyed him only slightly that he was one of those people who wakes up early to work out even when they’re on vacation, but the annoyance faded quickly because watching him work out? A heavenly experience.

Later, when Bucky wakes up properly and goes down to the swimming pool, he finds Steve on an inflatable pizza-shaped float, eyes closed, relaxing on the still water, and that’s a different sight altogether but no less enjoyable.

So yeah, he’s decided Steve is straight, just to make things easier for himself. He can go on holiday and get a bit of a crush on the handsome stranger he accidentally ended up sharing the house with, if he knows there’s no way the crush will lead anywhere.

Bucky is so not in a place where he can afford to develop _feelings_ for people and go on _dates_ and get himself into an inevitably messy relationship, thank you very much.

Steve opens his eyes, sees Bucky, and smiles. Within moments he’s out of the pool, drying himself off and putting his hearing aids back on so he can greet Bucky with a proper good morning. Bucky can’t help but return the greeting and the smile, even though he’s not in the mood for smiles. He’s barely even awake yet. He should be making coffee, not trying to make small talk with his temporary roommate.

The key word being trying. Aside from the ‘good morning’, Bucky’s not managed to say a word.

“I’m actually gonna take a nap,” Steve says, slinging his towel around his shoulders.

“Sleep tight,” Bucky half-mumbles, and with another quick smile, Steve is off.

Bucky strips down to his swimming shorts and commandeers the pizza float, deciding to lie around for a while. He’s not exactly sure what he’s supposed to be doing.

‘Take some time off,’ Clint had told him, ‘It’ll do you good.’

Then he’d given Bucky the keys to the beach house he part-owned with Natasha, written down the address, and told Bucky he could go whenever he wanted.

Which was a little thoughtless, perhaps, because as it turns out, Steve Rogers, friend of Clint Barton and the other part owner of The Beach House, had decided to make use of his holiday home for a little getaway, and had greeted Bucky with a baseball bat and an angry scowl.

After they’d cleared things up, though, Steve had turned into a gracious host, showing Bucky around and helpfully pointing him to clean towels and spare linens, and then said, ‘I’ll keep out of your hair.’ Which was really very nice of him, except now Bucky feels slightly uncomfortable and cannot relax completely, wondering if secretly Steve hates him for turning up and ruining his getaway.

Steve doesn’t actually hate him.

He is a little annoyed, because the entire reason he came to the beach house was to get away from people. After an exceptionally difficult school year, he was ready to spend a good two weeks on his own, with his books and his sketchpads, enjoying the sea and the sun, and only interacting with people when absolutely necessary.

The house is dark and dusty when he arrives. Clearly no one has been there in weeks, perhaps even months. Steve had last visited during the winter break, when he came up for a weekend with his then-girlfriend. He wonders whether Clint or Natasha had been there at all since last summer. It had been a busy year for all of them, for different reasons.

Steve opens the windows to let some fresh air in while Lulu, his six-year old Maltese mix, starts walking around, sniffing the floor and the furniture, exploring.

Steve leaves his duffel bag by the bed in the bedroom he’s claimed for himself, checks the pantry, and heads out to buy some necessities. When he returns, he sees footprints, other than his own, leading up to the house. He’d checked with Natasha. They weren’t going to visit any time soon.

Steve unlocks the door quietly and goes to grab the baseball bat kept next to the coat rack by the door. The house has a strict no-guns (or any other weapons) policy, spare for the baseball bat (in case of emergencies) and Clint’s archery equipment, because the man has only one way of ‘relaxing’ and that’s shooting arrows at various makeshift targets.

Suddenly he realises Lulu’s not greeting him at the door. He can’t hear her paws approaching him. His heart sinks. If whoever’s broken in has so much as touched a hair on that dog...

Steve rounds the corner into the living room, bat in hand. The man in the living room jumps about twenty feet, shouting out a series of expletives. Lulu, who was in the stranger’s arms, jumps down and comes to Steve, pawing happily at his feet.

Then Steve notices the empty left sleeve and puts the weapon down, instead picking up Lulu. He tries to keep an even tone when he asks, “Are you lost?”

The man glares back at him, clearly not appreciating the question. “Are _you_?”

“This is my house,” Steve says. He may have straightened up and puffed up his chest, just a little, to appear more intimidating. One-armed or not, there’s a fucking stranger in his living room. Just because he hasn’t harmed his dog doesn’t mean he’s not dangerous. He could be a serial killer with a soft spot for canine companions.

“Oh, are you Steve?” asks the stranger, sudden clarity on his face. “I’m Bucky. Clint gave me the key and told me I could come whenever. I guess he didn’t tell you? Sorry.”

“No, he didn’t,” Steve says, and pulls his phone out of his pocket, dialing Clint’s number. A five minute conversation later, it becomes apparent the man called Bucky is in fact not an intruder, but a surprise guest.

Because that’s what Steve needs right now.

Regardless, Steve puts on a smile, convinced it doesn’t come off as genuine, and shows Bucky around, because it’s the least he can do. His ma raised him right, after all. He then retreats to his bedroom for a nap, saying he’s tired from the drive.

At dinner time, he takes Lulu and makes the half hour drive into town, grabs some takeout, and goes to enjoy it by the seaside. It’s not dark yet, and there’s a group of middle-school aged children running around, playing, swimming, their delighted shouts disrupting what would otherwise be a serene environment.

Bucky is in his room when Steve returns to the house, although his light is still on. It’s just as well. He could do with some alone time. God knows how long Bucky is planning to stay.

  
  


 

~~

  
  


 

“So what’s the deal with the dog?”

Lulu’s head pops up from where she’d been resting it on top of Steve’s chest, which alerts him into looking up from his book. It takes him a moment to register that Bucky’s asked him a question. He’d barely noticed when Bucky had joined him in the living room, taking a seat in the armchair opposite him.

“Hm?”

“I mean, is it meant to be comical? Big man, tiny dog.”

“Oh,” Steve’s mouth curves into a tiny smile. He looks back at his book, trying to finish the paragraph. “I didn’t pick her - it was my mom’s.”

“Inheritance?” Bucky asks hesitantly.

“A present from a man she was seeing,” Steve explains. “She loves her, but doesn’t really have the time to look after her. She was going to give her away, so I decided to take her.”

“That’s sweet.”

Steve blushes a little. “I got attached. She’s good company,” he says, petting Lulu’s head and scratching behind her ears. She turns her head towards him and tries licking his hand which makes him grin.

“Hey, uh, sorry about yesterday.” Bucky says some time later, after Steve’s returned to his reading, and silence has fallen between them. He’s picking at something on the armrest of the chair, his discomfort evident in his expression.

“Oh, that’s-”

“Think I might head back tomorrow.”

Steve’s eyebrows shoot up. “Oh. That’s okay.” he says, and then, because he wouldn’t be able to live with himself if he didn’t, adds, “You’re welcome to stay longer if you’d like.”

It’s been only a day, but Steve finds he doesn’t mind having the man around, not as much as he originally thought he would. Bucky keeps to himself, is overall quiet, and knows when to give Steve privacy. He’d make an ideal roommate, Steve thinks. They’ve talked a little here and there, with the usual getting-to-know-someone questions being asked and answered.

He knows Bucky is an old childhood friend of Clint’s, having recently become reacquainted. He lives in Queens with his sister, lost his arm in an earthquake in Mexico, and, apparently, goes through entire tubs of ice cream in one sitting during the summer months.

In return, Steve had offered to make them some breakfast, told him about his job as a tenth grade teacher, and the story of how he, Clint and Natasha ended up buying the beach house after a surprisingly successful bachelor’s party in Atlantic City.

Overall, he thinks Bucky is okay.

Or, actually, a little more than okay. In the looks department.

But that’s not something Steve wants to explore. He’s caught himself staring at Bucky, stealing sidelong glances; admiring his jawline, his messy man bun, his eyes - tired, yet kind and beautiful. It’s only because it’s been a while since he’s been with someone - not since the incident, which led to the end of his former relationship. That’s why he finds himself somewhat attracted to Bucky, he tells himself. That, and the fact that the man is fitting in just perfectly in Steve’s carefully thought-out holiday agenda.

Bucky doesn’t answer immediately. He seems a bit lost in thought, staring straight ahead yet not focused on anything in particular. “I don’t know what I’m supposed to be doing here, to be honest.”

Steve raises an eyebrow. “Swim, lie in the sun, maybe go surfing?” he smiles teasingly. “The waves are shit but I’m sure it’ll be a fun kind of challenge.”

Bucky snorts. “This wasn’t my idea, is all. Clint bullied me into coming here for a break.”

“He does do that sometimes.”

“I think Natasha bullied him into bullying me, though.”

Steve grins. “Yeah, most definitely.” He sits up and puts the book away, giving up on trying to read. Lulu stays seated in his lap, most content. Steve runs a hand through the fur on her back and the dog rolls over, asking for belly rubs. “I like it here,” Steve says, absentmindedly petting Lulu. “No people around. No traffic, no noise. It’s good.”

“I couldn’t sleep last night,” Bucky cringes. “It’s way too fucking quiet.”

“Yeah, I get that. Put some white noise on, or open the window better yet. Ocean sounds right outside your window.”

Bucky rolls his eyes. “I get it, it’s a great house, quit trying to sell it to me.”

“You fucking wish,” Steve grins, his eyes glinting with amusement. Bucky looks at him and smiles, then looks away, almost shyly.  

“Anyway, I’m sure you’d prefer to have the house to yourself.”

Steve bites his lower lip, deciding what to say. He doesn’t want to lie, though he could - albeit badly, as he’s been told. “What are you gonna do, if you go back?”

Bucky sighs, considering. “Probably get into another fight with my sister’s boyfriend.”

“Oh?”

“He’s a bit…” Bucky trails off.

“Unpleasant?”

“Homophobic and ignorant, rather.”

“Oh,” Steve’s face twists into a scowl, and it makes Bucky laugh.

“Don’t be offended on my behalf. He just makes these offhand comments - he drives me up the wall, really. Sometimes I wish she wasn’t so in love with him.” Bucky’s eyes widen as he finishes his thought, almost as if realising what he’s said. “You didn’t hear that.” he tells Steve.

It makes him laugh softly. “No, I get it. I’d probably wish the same, if I had a sister.”

“You got brothers?”

“Nope, only child.” Steve stretches, showing his intent to get up, and Lulu jumps off his lap and trots off, probably in search of food or a chew toy. “And I’m not offended on your behalf,” Steve manages to say through the whirlwind of butterflies in his stomach. “I’m bi, actually.”

“Oh. Oh.”

Steve risks a glance and sees Bucky’s expression is very carefully neutral. He holds Bucky’s gaze, almost challenging, until Bucky, somewhat startled, blurts out, “That’s cool.” He seems to gather his thoughts for a moment before he says, “I just didn’t peg you for queer.”

“Yeah, I get that,” Steve breathes out a sigh and heads for the kitchen. “You want some lunch?”

Bucky’s on his feet and trailing behind Steve in seconds. “No, let me make us something.”

“Sure, go for it,” Steve smiles, taking a seat at the kitchen island. “See, you’ve got your uses. You should stay.”

“What, to fix you lunch?”

“Yup,” Steve grins. “Taking turns cooking sounds better, doesn’t it? Besides, it gets tiring, cooking for one.”

Bucky smiles a soft smile. “You’ve got a point there, I’ll have to admit,” he says as he rummages through the pantry and the fridge, deciding to make them sandwiches. He picks up a couple of tomatoes and passes them to Steve, asking him to help slice.

After they’re done eating, Bucky speaks again, having thought about the offer. “I’ll stay, but if you want me to fuck off, you’ll say so, yes?”

Steve chokes on the last bit of bread, taken aback by Bucky’s candour. He gulps down half his soda and then grins at Bucky, extending an arm for a handshake agreement. “Deal.”

 

 


	2. Chapter 2

 

Steve’s about to call it a night and head to bed when he spots Bucky by the swimming pool, sat with his legs hanging in the water. He stops and thinks about joining in for a second, then goes to quickly change into his swim shorts. It’s kind of pathetic, really, that he opts to hang out with Bucky instead of going to enjoy the peace and quiet he tells himself he needs, trying to sound convincing. The voice in his head almost laughs at him.

Bucky startles and swears when Steve runs past him and cannonballs into the water. He emerges seconds later, laughing, while Bucky glares at him. 

“Thanks for that,” he lifts his t-shirt to wipe the water off his face and Steve’s eyes are immediately drawn to his stomach, and the trail of soft hair that disappears under the waistband of his shorts. 

Trying to shake off the thoughts, Steve starts doing his laps - though the swimming pool really isn’t big enough to be calling them that. When he’s burned off the excess energy, he climbs out and goes to sit next to Bucky; probably a little too close, but Bucky doesn’t seem to mind.

“Aren’t you freezing?”

Steve shrugs. “I’ve been told I burn like a furnace. You don’t wanna swim? The water’s not that cold.”

“No, thank you.” Bucky swings his legs in the water. “This is as wet as I’m willing to be.”

Steve laughs. “Fair enough. What’re you doing out here, then? Thinking about life?”

“Something like that,” Bucky sighs. “Thinking about how to get mine in order. What would you do if you weren’t a teacher?”

The question catches Steve by surprise. Sure, he’s thought about quitting, every once and again. He’s been told that’s normal, especially in a tough profession like his. But he does love his job. He can’t really see himself doing anything else - not for the time being. 

“I don’t know,” he answers truthfully. 

Bucky huffs. “I mean like, hypothetically. In a perfect world. You’d still wanna be a teacher?”

“In a perfect world I’d open my own school and fund it with my millions and offer free tuition for disadvantaged kids from low income families.” Steve says. “It’d be a great school. I’d hire only the best teachers to offer the best quality of education from kindergarten to high school.”

Steve feels Bucky’s eyes on him, so he turns his head and meets his gaze. The softness of his smile turns Steve’s knees into jelly. 

“That sounds really nice.” Bucky says in a soft tone of voice. 

Steve makes a noncommittal noise. He doesn’t really trust his voice to not give him away, if he were to speak. It’s ridiculous. Bucky shouldn’t be having this level of effect on him whatsoever.

Steve shakes off the thoughts and instead he thinks about Bucky’s question again. “Maybe I could open a restaurant at the beach.”

“What would you call it?”

“I don't know. The Captain's Cafe.”

“What?” Bucky laughs. “Who's the captain in this scenario?”

Steve shrugs. “I wanted to be a police captain, like my dad. In the NYPD.”

“Oh. What happened?”

“Didn’t make it past my first year.”

“You quit?”

“Yeah. Fucking hated it.”

“What did you hate the most?”

“All of it. I don't know. The COs, the other cops. All of them a bunch of dicks.”

Bucky hums in response. “Fuck the police, right?” he says, trying for a joke.

“Damn right.”

“Okay, let's talk about something else. You're kinda scary when you're angry.”

Steve turns his head and looks at him, and his expression softens; the harsh glare being replaced by a worried frown. “I… I'm not a violent person, I don't- I wouldn't lash out, or anything-”

“Hey, no,” Bucky turns his torso to face Steve and reaches out, placing his hand on Steve's forearm. “I was joking, I'm not actually scared of you.”

“Oh,” Steve breathes a sigh of relief. “Okay, good.”

“I feel like I should be at least a little, given that you can probably bench press me, but-”

“Shut up,” Steve rolls his eyes, fighting a grin.

“...but I have no sense of self preservation, as you can see,” Bucky lifts his left shoulder to indicate the missing arm. 

“Oh my God,” Steve bursts into laughter then covers his mouth, feeling bad about laughing.

“It's okay, it was meant to be funny.” Bucky grins, eyes glinting with mischief. “I love making people uncomfortable about laughing.”

“You’re a little shit.”

“That’s how I roll, baby.”

Steve laughs and they fall silent. Bucky seems lost in his thoughts; his gaze is focused on the still water, yet he looks like he’s a million miles away. 

“You think I could be a teacher?” he asks after a long time.

Steve looks at him. “I don’t know. It’s not an easy job. Do you want to be a teacher?”

“I don’t know what the fuck I want,” Bucky sighs. He turns his head and meets Steve in the eye and holds his gaze for a long moment. Then he bites his lip and looks away, and swings his leg in the water, nudging Steve’s foot with his own. “Sorry. Didn’t mean to dampen the mood.”

“You haven’t. I’m not exactly in high spirits, either.” Steve says, being more honest than he expected himself to be with a man he’s only met three days ago.

Bucky nods. “We should change that. Cheer each other up instead of bringing each other down, huh?”

“That sounds like a great idea. How do we go about doing that, then? Alcohol? Cannabis?”

“ _ Steve, _ ” Bucky chastises, shooting him a mock glare. “We don’t need drugs to have fun. Some role model you are. Is that what you teach your kids?”

“Of course not,” Steve would be affronted at the accusation if he didn’t know Bucky is joking. “You’d be surprised with the kind of shit fifteen year olds get up to nowadays.”

“Hey, I was fifteen once.”

“Yeah, so was I. We’d probably look like a goody two-shoes compared to my class, trust me.”

“You got any at-risk kids?”

Steve nods. “More than we can handle, to be honest. So we’re doing this sober, then?”

“Yes,” Bucky straightens up, puts on a serious face. “We are two adult men on holiday and we are going to have fun without any mood altering substances.”

Steve sighs, long-suffering. “And how are we going to achieve that?”

“I have no fucking idea.”

They decide to play cards. Bucky kicks Steve’s ass in poker. Twice. Consequently, Steve declares his hatred for poker and puts the cards away. 

“You’ll like this,” he says, smiling a little in anticipation. “I’ve never won a single game of poker.”

“Steve!” Bucky gasps. He looks like he wants to laugh, but isn’t sure if Steve’s messing with him. 

“I’m serious. All my friends are basically pros. My girlfriend taught me how to play in college, and she beat my ass every time as well. I’m giving up. No more poker for me, thank you.”

Bucky laughs this time. “That’s the best thing I’ve heard all day.”

“Thank you for laughing at my misfortunes.”

“Drama queen.”

Steve sits across from him on the sofa again. “Now what? Twenty questions?”

“Hmm,” Bucky tilts his head to one side, considering. “Never have I ever?”

“With what, orange juice shots?”

“Yes.”

Bucky lines up the shot glasses on the coffee table and fills them up with the juice while Steve grumbles about this being the most bored he’s ever been. 

“Don’t be so dramatic,” Bucky says. “I’m actually having fun.”

“Hey,” Steve pokes Bucky with his foot. “I’m only joking. I’m having fun, too.”

Bucky smiles at him. “Good. Let’s start. Never have I ever won a game of poker.”

Steve rolls his eyes and takes a shot. “Never have I ever lost a fucking limb.”

Bucky’s mouth falls open. “Holy fucking shit,” he whispers, looking absolutely shocked. 

“Shit.” Steve covers his mouth with his hand as if only just realising what he’s said. “Oh my God - that was awful, I’m so sorry-”

“That was fucking  _ evil _ ,” Bucky shakes his head, now looking a little - amused? He reaches out for a shot glass and drinks. “Who knew you had a dark side?!”

“I’m really sorry,” Steve mumbles. His stomach is in knots with nerves. “I really should learn how to control my mouth better.”

“No, fuck that. If you’re thinking it, say it.” Bucky smiles at him. “Don’t be sorry, I’m not offended or anything. It’s actually kinda nice to joke about it.”

That makes Steve feel better, but only slightly. He’s still feeling a little nervous, but that might have to do with the fact that Bucky’s put his hand on Steve’s knee with no intention of moving it.

“My turn,” Bucky says, and unfortunately, withdraws his hand. “Never have I ever…been to Europe.”

“I hate it when people say  _ Europe _ as if it’s one place. There’s like twenty countries in Europe.”

“Would you like me to be more specific?” Bucky asks, clearly mocking him.

Steve chooses to play along. “That would be great, yes.”

“Okay. Never have I ever been to  _ any _ country in Europe.”

“Thank you. Me neither. My turn.” Steve tilts his head backwards, looking at the ceiling. “Never have I ever nearly fallen asleep during a game of ‘Never have I ever’.”

“You’re a little shit. What do you propose we do instead?”

“Truth or dare.”

Bucky rolls his eyes. “Truth.”

Steve thinks about what to ask for a long moment. He could go with something silly, or completely mundane, but instead he looks Bucky in the eye and asks, “Do you regret coming here?”

Bucky looks taken aback, but only for a moment. Holding Steve’s gaze, he says, “No. Do you regret that I came?”

“No.” Steve shakes his head. “I actually enjoy your company.”

“Me, too,” says Bucky, then with a tiny smirk, adds, “I’m a really fun guy.”

“That was truly terrible.”

“Shut up.”

Steve sighs. “You know, not being allowed to drink only makes me want it more. I imagine this is what the Prohibition must’ve been like. Those poor, poor people, having to live through that…”

“Oh my God,” Bucky groans, falling back on the sofa. He gets to his feet and goes to fetch a cold beer from the fridge. “Here. Now will you shut up about it?”

Steve takes the beer happily and drinks straight from the bottle, holding it with both hands like a child. After taking a big sip, he smiles, satisfied. 

“You fucking baby.”

“Yes, I am indeed cute and lovable.”

Bucky snorts. “Undeniably so.”

Steve puts the bottle away after another couple of sips. “I don’t wanna play any more of your dumbass games.”

“Oh, I’m sorry I’ve kept you entertained all night.”

“That’s what-” Steve catches himself before he can complete the sentence, but when he looks at Bucky and sees him smiling, he breaks into a grin. “Good one.”

Bucky shrugs innocently. “Just stating facts.”

“Is that so.” Steve raises his eyebrows. Bucky holds his gaze for a moment too long and suddenly it doesn’t feel like they’re joking anymore. 

Steve feels too hot. He shifts uncomfortably and gets to his feet. “I’m gonna turn in.”

“Oh,” Bucky sounds almost disappointed. “Okay. Good night.”

“Good night,” Steve says as he walks away. Lulu jumps off the armchair where she was napping away and trots behind him. Steve bends down to pick her up then looks at Bucky again. “Hey, thanks for tonight. I had fun.”

Bucky gives him a little smile. “Me too.”

Steve nods and raises his hand to wave goodbye before he disappears into the hallway, heading to his room. He regrets it as soon as he climbs into bed. He’s too awake, his entire body is thrumming with the excitement. There’s no way he’s going to sleep any time soon.

Bucky was literally sitting inches away from him. All Steve had to do was move a little closer and close the distance between them and they could be kissing right now. Instead he chickened out, like the coward he is. 

An hour and half later, he’s still awake, having tossed and turned in his bed so much that even his dog got annoyed and jumped off to go and sleep in her own bed, which she rarely did. After giving up on pretending to try and sleep, Steve gets up and decides to walk around the house, maybe grab a glass of water, or sit by the pool, or watch 3AM infomercials. Anything to get Bucky off his mind.

Except he’s not so lucky.

Steve rounds the corner towards the kitchen and stops dead in his tracks; because there’s Bucky, dressed only in a pair of tight black boxer shorts, making himself a midnight snack. 

“Oh, hey,” he whispers, glancing at Steve. “Did I wake you? Sorry. I got hungry.”

Steve’s eyes travel down Bucky’s body and back up again. He’s not being subtle - Bucky notices, if the smirk on his face is anything to go by.

Steve shakes his head. “Couldn’t sleep,” he says eventually, in a tone that matches Bucky’s. He can’t keep his eyes off Bucky,  _ good Lord.  _ It’s kind of ridiculous. Steve’s mind is racing with thoughts, slightly panicking. He tries to appear casual as he leans against the doorframe, crossing his arms across his chest.

Bucky’s abandoned his sandwich and is now looking at Steve. His gaze is kind of intense. It’s making Steve nervous, but in a good way. In the  _ best  _ way. 

And then Bucky’s moving, walking towards him, and Steve stands up straight, suddenly alert, which is a good thing too because suddenly Bucky’s arm is around his middle and his face is inches from Steve’s. It happens so fast Steve can only let out a breath he didn’t realise he was holding; Bucky says, “Stop me if I’m reading this all wrong,” and then his mouth is on Steve’s and they’re kissing,  _ oh my god, he’s finally kissing Bucky.  _ Steve’s hands move on their own accord, finding their way through the wavy brown mess of Bucky’s hair, fingers curling around the strands. Bucky moans into the kiss, a quiet little hum, and the sound goes straight to Steve’s dick. He pulls away and locks eyes with Bucky again. 

They’re both breathless. 

Steve is still holding Bucky’s face between his palms, his thumbs caressing Bucky’s cheeks absentmindedly. Bucky’s still holding on to his waist. Steve wants to stop time and just stay looking into Bucky’s eyes. He’s tongue tied; he fears whatever he says will ruin the moment. 

“Sorry,” Bucky says eventually, but he’s smiling. “Couldn’t hold back anymore. Or, well, I  _ could _ , but I didn’t want to.”

Steve bites his lip. “Don’t - don’t say sorry.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah.” 

Bucky’s smile grows wider. “Wanna do it again?”

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please give me some feedback on this so I can continue writing? <3


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> warning for referenced gun violence!!

 

 

“Get in.”

“No way.”

Steve splashes him with water. “Come on, get in!”

“I can’t swim. I’ll drown.” Bucky pouts at him, slowly lifting his left shoulder and letting it drop.

Steve stares at him for a whole minute trying to figure out if Bucky is serious or not. He swims closer to where Bucky is sat on the pier and grabs on to the wooden surface, lifting himself up slowly to come face to face with Bucky. He nudges his nose against Bucky’s and kisses him softly. “Come on,” he murmurs. “I’ll save you if you drown.”

Bucky threads his fingers through Steve’s wet hair. “My hero.”

Steve grins. “Don’t make you pull you in.”

“You wouldn’t dare. I’m an _invalid,_ Steve.”

“Nuh-uh,” Steve presses his lips against Bucky’s softly. “That shit doesn’t work on me.”

He sinks back into the water when his arms start getting tired from holding himself up, and instead he wraps a hand around each of Bucky’s ankles and pulls him down - gently, so if Bucky resisted even a little, Steve wouldn’t be able to pull him. Bucky sighs and lets Steve pull him down and wrap him in his arms.

“Are you happy now? My hair is wet.”

Steve laughs. “Shut up.”

They stay in the water, wrapped up around each other, kissing for what feels like hours. When they get out, the sun is setting, turning the sky into a soft purple blanket, the last fiery rays slowly fading. Lulu runs around, chasing after the tiny birds that land on the beach every now and again, looking for food. Eventually she gets tired and curls up next to Steve, lying on the warm sand, with his head resting on Bucky’s lap who is using a towel, thank you very much.

“How are you planning to get rid of all that sand stuck on you?”

Steve opens an eye, looking up at Bucky. “By getting back in the water. Care to join?”

“At this hour? No, thanks.”

“It’s not that cold, it’s summer.” Steve lifts a hand, dragging it over Bucky’s chin. “I’ll keep you warm.”

Bucky makes a noncommittal noise, pretending to consider. He kind of loves how Steve insists on trying to tempt him to do this and that.

“When it gets dark enough, you don’t even need swimwear, you know.”

“Are you suggesting skinny dipping?”

Steve just grins in response.

Bucky shakes his head. He touches Steve’s hair again, messing it up. “I’ve never actually done that.”

“Why not?”

“I don’t know, I don’t want strangers to see me naked.”

Steve hums, considering. “You didn’t seem to mind me seeing you naked last night.”

“You’re not a stranger.”

“You met me three days ago.”

“Okay, I’m a big slut.” Bucky rolls his eyes.

Steve bursts into laughter, holding his hand to his chest, whole body shaking with it. When he’s calmed down he looks up at Bucky again, smiling like an idiot. “I like you.”

Bucky glances down at him, caught off guard. “Thanks. I like you, too.” he says, and he can’t help but smile.

“We’re basically alone here.” Steve gets to his feet and looks around the beach. There’s not a soul in sight as far as the eye can see. It’s sort of a secluded beach, being far from the city, it doesn’t get many visitors. Steve found it by chance one day when driving around with Lulu, trying to find a beach where he wouldn’t get told off by a middle aged mother of four for “bringing his nasty dog to the beach where her children swim.”

“Are you really going to make me strip in public in broad daylight?”

“Buck, it’s almost eight. But you don’t have to.”

Steve extends a hand, helping Bucky to his feet, then drags him back into the water with him. Bucky climbs onto Steve’s back without thinking twice, wrapping his legs around Steve’s waist and holding on with his arm around Steve’s chest. Instead of complaining, Steve holds Bucky’s arm and presses a kiss to it, saying, “I got you.” It makes Bucky melt just a little. He’s perfectly capable of swimming, even if it’s harder now than it used to be, but Steve wants to look out for him and it just kills him how sweet he is.

Once they’re in deeper waters, Steve shimmies out of his swimming shorts then looks at Bucky expectantly. Bucky goes along with it, even with an exaggerated sigh of dissatisfaction.

“Now what?”

Steve grins at him, with that mischievous glint in his eye. “Wait here.”

He grabs both of their shorts and swims back to shore - not all the way, but close enough so that when he stands up and throws the balled-up garments as far as he can, they land near the shore. “Lulu, fetch!”

Bucky actually gasps when he sees the little fluff ball swim up, grab their shorts, and return them to the beach near their towels.

“Holy shit, Steve,” he says when Steve is close enough to hear him. “You trained your dog to do that?”

Steve laughs as he swims up to Bucky and grabs him by his hips, bringing their bodies closer. “It only took like two tries, so I wouldn’t say I _trained_ her.”

“Smart dog.”

“Mhm,” Steve kisses him softly. “Now, isn’t this nicer?”

Bucky sighs. He actually loves being completely naked in the water, close to Steve, and climbs on him again, wrapping his arm around Steve’s neck. “Much nicer. But I suspect you’ve schemed to get into my pants again.”

“You’re not wearing any pants.”

“Exactly.”

Steve grins. He glides his hands downwards, grabbing Bucky’s ass. “This okay?”

“I guess I’ll allow it.” Bucky sighs again.

“I’m forever grateful.”

Bucky kisses him, slow and leisurely. He feels like he’s floating, soaring through the skies. He hasn’t felt this alive in fucking months, if not years. Something comes over him suddenly. Heart fluttering in his chest, he breaks the kiss to rest his forehead against Steve’s.

“Touch me,” he breathes.

Steve puts a hand on Bucky’s dick to find he’s already semi-hard. It kickstarts something in his brain and he finds that suddenly all he wants to do is touch Bucky, jerk him off and make him come; the blood rushes to his groin at the mere thought.

Bucky moans quietly at the first stroke of Steve’s hand over his cock, throwing his head back. Steve holds him up with one hand and jerks him off with the other, while pressing his mouth to Bucky’s throat. Bucky’s grip on Steve’s shoulder tightens as he starts getting closer and within moments orgasms, a quiet, shaky, ‘Oh my God’ falling off his lips.

Steve puts his hand on Bucky’s cheek, bringing his face down towards him to kiss him softly. “You good?”

Bucky hums, content. “Fucking fantastic,” he says, kissing him again. “I’m gonna blow you so hard when we get out.”

Steve laughs. “Okay. Let’s do that.”

Bucky makes him lie down on the towel and settles between Steve’s knees and gets to work. Steve outright shouts when Bucky gets going, working his magic on him, swallowing him down whole. It’s probably Bucky’s favourite thing to do in bed - or in this case, at the fucking beach. He tries to stay focused on the task at hand while watching Steve writhing and cursing, getting a handful of Bucky’s hair and pulling hard. Bucky moans with Steve’s dick in his mouth and within seconds Steve’s coming.

“ _Oh my God_.”

Bucky’s biting down on a grin. “Are you trying to get us caught? Keep it down.”

“Can’t, you’re too good.” Steve says, breathless. He pulls Bucky over him, helping him settle with his weight on Steve, and kisses him, moaning against his mouth. Then he reaches out and digs in his backpack for his hearing aids. “Sorry if I got us caught fucking on the beach. We’ll be on the internet before you know it.”

Bucky laughs, burrowing his face into Steve’s neck. “I’m officially outside my comfort zone. Can we get dressed and go home?”

They shower, lie around in Steve’s ‘fluffy vacation bathrobes’ as he calls them, and when their hunger gets to them, they get up in search of food. They make dinner together, tossing vegetables and noodles into a wok to make a quick stir fry, and eat their meal on the sunbeds by the pool.

When he’s done eating, Bucky puts his bowl on the floor and stretches out his legs. He pats his lap, and Lulu, who was watching him eat and making puppy eyes at him, jumps on his lap. Bucky smiles as he ruffles her fur, scratching behind her ears. The smile on his face stretches even wider when Lulu climbs up even further, settles on his torso and starts licking his face. Bucky tries to stretch out of her reach.

“Might steal your dog.”

“Over my dead body.” says Steve from over where he’s lying on the sunbed, hands behind his head and his eyes closed.

Bucky laughs. “Can I borrow her sometimes?”

“No,” Steve gets up and goes to pick up Lulu right from Bucky’s arms, despite Bucky’s protests. “Get your own dog.” he says, barely able to hide his amusement. He enjoys this way too much.

“That was the meanest thing you’ve ever done in your life.”

Steve scoffs, settling on the sunbed again. He places Lulu on his chest, playing with her and rubbing her belly. She enjoys the attention for a while before she jumps off and struts away. Steve turns his head to see where she’s going, then catches Bucky’s eye only to see him smirking smugly.

“I’ve done worse things.”

“I’m not surprised. You’re kind of an asshole.”

Steve throws one of his used chopsticks at Bucky, who gasps, feigning shock. “See? Asshole.”

It earns a laugh from Steve. He lets his head loll to the side, looking at Bucky. “Does that mean you won’t cuddle me tonight?”

“Oh, I’ll cuddle you alright.”

Steve laughs even more. “Come on,”

They clear the bowls of food and wash up quickly, then snuggle up on the sofa and turn on the television, settling on a channel at random. Bucky settles against Steve’s chest, and holds onto the arm Steve throws over his shoulder and across his torso. The movie they’re watching doesn’t hold his attention for long.

“Out of curiosity, what’s the absolute worst thing you’ve done?”

There’s a beat of silence before Steve answers. “You’ll have to be more specific.”

“Meaning?”

“Like in the last year, or in my adult life, or ever?”

Bucky sighs and mumbles, “I’ve taken a criminal for a lover.”

“I’m joking,” Steve replies, leaning in to bite Bucky’s ear softly, teasingly. “Once I planted a pack of cigarettes in my classmates locker and got him suspended for a week.”

“Wow, that’s pretty bad. Why did you do that? Did he steal your girlfriend and you wanted revenge?”

Steve shrugs. “He was a big bully. He picked on younger kids and disrupted class all the time. Once he made a teacher cry. A grown woman. It made me really mad, so I stole a pack from my uncle and threw it in his locker while he had it open. Everyone was happy to not have him around for a week, trust me.”

“Aw, you vigilante.” Bucky teases, but a part of him feels oddly proud. “How old were you then?”

“I don’t know - maybe twelve?”

Bucky hums. “Is that the worst you’ve done?”

“I stole someone’s dog when I was sixteen.”

“Steve!” Bucky exclaims in surprise.

“They were keeping him on a chain outside all fucking day. He was a 10 month old puppy, I had to. I couldn’t let him live his whole life on that chain.”

Bucky feels a kind of sadness squeeze his heart. “I don’t want to condone theft, but-”

“I did the right thing.”

“Yeah, you did, babe.” Bucky holds Steve’s hands, lacing their fingers together.

“My mom was super mad at me, though. I think she was worried I’d get arrested, but I don’t think they ever even looked for the dog. We couldn’t keep him, so I took him to the shelter the next day. I think he got adopted a few weeks later.”

They fall silent for a few moments, half-watching the film. Bucky prefers to hear Steve’s stories, so he asks again, “What else have you got for me?”

He’s not prepared for the answer.

Steve keeps his eyes focused on the TV, swallows hard, and in a quiet voice, he says, “I almost shot one of my students.”

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> EDIT: just came across this gif: [CLICK ](https://78.media.tumblr.com/78849b37b74fff26f68fb1ed8cbfe29d/tumblr_n8zfwuBDac1stgodko1_500.gif)
> 
> what are the odds. it's steve and bucky at the beach.
> 
>  
> 
> thank you all so much ily guys your comments give me life pls <3


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> more CW for gun violence (referenced)

 

 

“It was ten minutes before the bell rang. My students were taking a test, so I was keeping an eye on the time, telling them how much time they had left. Ten minutes before the bell rang, I heard the first shot fired - we all heard the first shot fired, but I thought it was - I don’t know, a car backfired, or something. I hoped that was it. You just never think it will actually happen to you, you know?”

Steve has his hands folded in his lap as he speaks, Bucky across from him on the couch, sat with his legs crossed. There’s a crease between his eyebrows and the corners of his mouth are turned down, the concern evident on his face. Steve doesn’t dare to meet his eye - not for more than a quick glance. Bucky listens carefully, doesn’t interrupt, just lets him talk.

“I thought about it sometimes, what if that happened to my school - when I saw about it on the news. I thought about what I’d do, how I’d react. But when it actually happened, my first thought was that it  _ can’t  _ be happening. We weren’t prepared, none of us were. I went out to see what was happening and heard more shots being fired. Run back in and made them all hide best as they could.”

“There were senior students returning from a school trip. He was waiting in the hallways - he’d walked into school with all the guns in his backpack, started firing as soon as he saw the students. We heard people screaming, running in the hallway, shouting for someone to call the police... I couldn’t just stand there.” Steve shrugs, lets out a long breath. “I wanted to barricade the door but there wasn’t anything to work with. So I went out to see what was happening, maybe bring more students in the room to keep them safe. Everyone was scared, running for their lives. I grabbed a few students, told them to go hide in my classroom, and then I saw the gun on the floor. I guess he’d dropped it - he had several.”

Steve shakes his head, casting his eyes to the ceiling. He hasn’t really told the whole story to anyone before, not even the therapist his mom made him visit a couple of times. Truth be told, he’s not even entirely sure everything he’s saying is accurate. The events of that day are a blur, while the images are still so vivid in his mind. 

“I picked up the gun and went looking for him, hiding whenever I could. I had him in my line of sight, walking down an empty hallway, looking for more people. I just…” his eyes abruptly fill with tears. “I couldn’t take the shot. He hadn’t seen me, hadn’t even heard me. I could have shot him.”

“All I could see was a kid. A dumb, misguided kid. I don’t know. He killed six people, injured lots of others. And I couldn’t take the fucking shot.”

“Steve,” Bucky whispers then, reaching out to take Steve’s hand. 

Steve wipes away his tears roughly. “He was always a quiet kid, you know? Didn’t get good grades in most subjects, but he paid attention in class. He got picked on a lot, but most kids do.” he pauses. “I could have just shot him in the leg and he’d have been wailing on the floor until the police arrived.”

“Did he get arrested?”

Steve nods. “Police arrived eventually and took him down. Unharmed.”

“Good. That’s their job.” Bucky says, and there’s something stern about his tone. 

“I  _ was  _ a police officer, Buck. I had the training, I’d fired at perps before.”

Bucky sighs. He invites Steve to settle next to him, wrap himself around Bucky and tries to soothe him best as he can, dragging his fingers through Steve’s hair gently. “I’m sorry, Stevie, I don’t know what to say. I think you did the right thing. You protected your students. That’s all any teacher can do.”

Steve nods slowly, his nose rubbing against Bucky’s shoulder where’s buried his face in the crook of Bucky’s neck. He’s drained, out of words and suddenly exhausted. He’s poured out everything he thinks and feels to this man he barely knows, yet feels strangely comforted by, Bucky’s solid presence next to him keeping him grounded.

They stay cuddled up on the couch for a while, the absolute silence in the house engulfing them. Steve can feel his eyelids getting heavier, and he can’t keep his eyes open anymore. Bucky must have noticed, because he asks, “You wanna head to bed?”

Steve nods wordlessly. He heads up the stairs towards his bedroom, Bucky following him closely, Lulu speeding past them and being first through the door to what she considers her bedroom. Bucky takes a hold of his hand and Steve turns to look at him. 

“Get some rest, okay?” Bucky kisses him softly. “Wake me up if you need to.”

Steve nods again. He lingers, holding Bucky’s gaze, unwilling to say goodnight. His heartbeat picks up slowly, a sense of panic creeping up his spine. Bucky says good night eventually and turns to head to his bedroom, only glancing back once and giving Steve a small smile. 

Steve walks into his room, changes into his sleepwear, and falls into bed. Lulu gets up from where she’d curled up near his feet and settles down closer to him, closing her eyes with a sigh. Steve snuggles up to her and starts petting her, dragging his fingers through her soft fur gently. She’s been a much needed source of comfort in the past few months. He’d be lost without this dog. Steve squeezes his eyes shut against the new wave of tears, not allowing himself to cry.

He said all he had to say, everything he’s kept to himself all this time. It’s stupid, opening up to a stranger who barely knows you, who will undoubtedly judge you. He hadn’t even told Clint or Natasha, and they’d probably wade into war with him, if Steve were to ask them. It doesn’t matter, anyway. It’s not like he thought he and Bucky were  _ a thing. _ They’re not even  _ dating _ . Truth is, Steve isn’t sure what exactly they’re doing - probably having a summer fling; it’s not like they discussed it. They just went with it, letting themselves get caught up in the moment and inevitably ending up in bed. 

He’s not gonna let himself fret over it, Steve tells himself. He’s not gonna let this shame he feels get the best of him.  _ Whatever, _ he thinks to himself. 

It’s a particularly rough night. Steve’s mind is restless, his sleep tormented with strange, unpleasant dreams. In one, there’s Bucky, in the sea. He’s drowning, and Steve is trying to get to him, swimming as fast as he can, but doesn’t seem to be getting any closer. He swims and swims and tires himself out until his eyes close and suddenly he’s sinking underwater. 

Steve is soaked in sweat when he wakes up suddenly and sits up in bed. The sudden motion startles the dog, who jumps up and looks at him, confused and slightly alarmed. 

“Hey, come here,” he picks her up and cradles her to his chest. “I’m sorry, pup,” he says and gets licked on his nose in return. 

Steve strips down to his underwear, tossing his pyjamas into the laundry basket, and returns to bed, and a night of fretful sleep. 

Bucky is already awake and making breakfast, when Steve makes his way to the kitchen in the early hours of the morning. He looks up from the pan where he’s flipping several strips of bacon and upon seeing Steve, he smiles, warm and genuine. 

“‘Morning. How’d you sleep?”

Steve shrugs. “Not bad,” he says as he grabs the orange juice from the fridge and takes a seat at the table. “Why are you up so early?”

“Woke up to pee and couldn’t fall asleep. So I thought I’d make breakfast. How do you like your eggs?”

“However you’re making them is fine.”

“Fried?” Bucky asks, turning to look at Steve. 

Steve nods in response. He still feels the dread heavy in his stomach. “I’m not that hungry, actually. Can I help with something?”

“Who did I make all this for then?” Bucky asks, gesturing at the food with the pair of tongs he’s holding, a small smile playing on his lips - that is until he turns and looks at Steve again, and his expression turns somber. He turns off the stove and puts the pans aside, coming to take a seat at the table with Steve. “You okay?” he asks softly, a concerned crease between his brows. 

Steve sighs. “Yeah - just tired.”

Bucky grabs a hold of his hand. “You didn’t sleep that well?”

Steve shakes his head. “I’ll nap later.”

“Can I join you?” Bucky asks, smiling.

“Sounds good.” 

Then Bucky leans in and kisses him and gets to his feet. He grabs the plates from the cupboard, tells Steve to warm up the coffee, and serves them breakfast. Steve eats most of his plate’s contents despite his lack of appetite. Bucky praises him mockingly, saying he’ll grow into a big strong boy. 

“Thanks,” Steve says, the tiniest hints of a smile on his lips. “For breakfast. And for listening.”

“Anytime,” Bucky says, smiling. “Although I’m not a licensed psychologist. You might want to talk to an actual professional.”

“Maybe.”

“Just an idea.”

“I’ll think about it,” says Steve. He’s not sure how much of that is true. 

“Good. You wanna clean up and head to the beach?”

Steve nods slowly, but barely registers what Bucky is actually saying. “You’re not judging me?”

Bucky pauses in the midst of putting his hair in a messy bun. “What? Judge you for what?” he asks, frowning. 

Steve lets out a breath. “I…” he trails off. “I’m not sure.”

“For not shooting a 16 year old kid?”

“A  _ mass murderer _ .” Steve corrects him harshly. 

Bucky nods, biting down on his lip. “Look, I’m sorry. I don’t think I could have done it - I don’t know. But you didn’t do anything wrong, Stevie. That boy - yes he’s guilty and he’s a murderer and he’ll be convicted for his crimes. But he’s somebody’s child, somebody’s brother. Would you be able to live with that? Taking someone’s life?”

Steve shakes his head. “I should have at least-”

“You’re a civilian. How long had it been since your police training? Since you even held a gun?”

“Six, seven years.” 

Bucky sighs. He sits down again, facing Steve. “Please talk to someone about this.”

Steve nods. “Thank you. Again.”

Bucky puts his hand on Steve’s cheek and kisses him soft and slow. Steve sighs when they break apart. 

“Come on, we’re going swimming.”

“By swimming you mean using me for piggy back rides in the ocean?”

Bucky grins. “More or less, yeah.”

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i'm aware this chapter may have been upsetting so if you need someone to talk to feel free to send me an ask on tumblr (@steveandbucky). alternatively, [ here's some cuteness.](https://steveandbucky.tumblr.com/post/177182260160/)
> 
> anyway this is all i have on this verse for the time being, and i'm kind of struggling to write more. would love to hear your thoughts! <3


	5. Chapter 5

 

“I went back home for a while. Indiana. Stayed with my parents. I couldn't work, and there wasn't enough in my savings to afford rent in New York.”

Bucky shifts a little, finding a more comfortable position. He's half-laying on the couch, leaning against Steve's chest, with Lulu curled up on his lap. He holds her firmly with his hand while he sinks a bit lower and stretches out his legs, placing his feet on the armrest. 

“I had physio for months. My entire shoulder was fucked up, all the way to my back, near my shoulder blades.” Bucky makes a gesture but with his back pressed against Steve's chest it's not easy to show. “Nerve damage. It hurt like hell. My doctor pretty much guaranteed I'd get addicted to the pain meds he prescribed.”

Steve chuckles. “Were they good?”

“Yeah, to an extent. Physio helped more. And therapy, sort of. I mean, some of it.”

“What did the therapist tell you?”

Bucky sighs. Steve's been carding his fingers through Bucky's hair, and the touch is so gentle, it's almost putting him to sleep. Bucky can't remember the last time he was this relaxed without the help of a psychoactive substance of some sort. 

“That I likely have PTSD. It was group therapy. Coping skills and shit. They gave me anti-anxiety meds too. That helped sometimes. I kinda had this… panic in me. Just everywhere I went. Like I was scared all day long.”

“Scared of what?”

Bucky turns his head slightly, pressing his cheek against Steve's chest. “I don't know. I was just..on edge. You know when you're worried about something and you can't relax? Like that, but...not as intense I guess, but constant. For no damn reason.”

Steve leans in and presses his lips to Bucky's forehead softly. “I'm sorry you went through that. Must've been rough.”

“Yeah,” Bucky sighs. “It's okay. I'm better now. Just… a bit lost.”

“When did you move back to New York?”

“Last year. I found a place, then moved again, and now I’m staying with my sister but honestly I need to find somewhere to live because we’re driving each other crazy.” Bucky sighs. “I went around temping here and there. Quit the last job because my boss was a grade A asshole. I'm not really sure what I'm doing with my life right now.” 

“What do you want to be doing?”

“I don't know.” Bucky sighs again, growing frustrated. “I've kind of had random jobs ever since I dropped out of college. I guess I never really found my calling, or whatever.”

Steve hums softly, his hold on Bucky tightening. “I think it'll come to you when you least expect it. But in the meantime you can do whatever makes you happy. I know that's easier said than done…”

Bucky snorts a laugh, but it's a quiet sound. “Yeah, exactly.”

“You wanna take a BuzzFeed quiz to find out what your dream job is based on your breakfast food preferences?”

That makes Bucky laugh out loud. “Yeah, why not.”

By nightfall, Bucky learns that his ideal city to live in is New York (score), his actual emotional age is 47, his next holiday destination should be Seoul, and the colour that matches his personality is yellow. The websites suggests writer, plumber and acrobat as potential careers (based on three very different quizzes). 

Steve gets his turn and finds out his celebrity soulmate is Ryan Gosling, and Bucky pouts about that for a while, feigning hurt. 

“Maybe I will marry Ryan Gosling and we'll live in a big mansion and you can be our butler.”

“I hate you.” Bucky gets to his feet and heads to the kitchen to make some dinner, Lulu following him closely.

“Noooo, come baaaack. One last quiz, I promise! This one is called  _ ‘What Career Should You Actually Have? _ It’s legit stuff, Buck.”

Bucky makes a non-committal noise and goes about making himself a snack while Steve has brought his laptop along and is sat at the counter, reading the questions out loud.

“Okay, what would you spend your tax refund on? Options are: Big screen TV, How much is a yacht, Exotic vacation-”

“Pass.”

“You’re passing on a tax refund?” 

Bucky shoots him a playful glare. “I don’t wanna do any more of these stupid quizzes. Can’t we just bone?”

“I’m choosing the answers for you. This is a bit unfair,” Steve props his elbow on the counter and rests his chin in his palm. “They’ve included ‘give it to charity’ or ‘invest it’, so it’s kind of like if you choose anything else you’re a selfish asshole or a selfish dumbass. You can’t win.”

“Are you even listening to me? You heard me say bone, right?”

Steve fights a smile and continues with the quiz. “What would you bring to a desert island? Easy. My buddy, so I don’t get bored.” he says, and looks up at Bucky and winks at him. 

“I’m flattered. Meanwhile we’re ten minutes from the beach, your ‘buddy’ is right here and is only wearing pyjama bottoms and nothing underneath, so...”

“Will you let me focus please? This is your future we’re talking about…” Steve mutters while clicking on the answers. “Aaand done! You got: Professor.” he says with a big grin.

“Pass.” Bucky says, not even bothering to cover his mouth as he chews, but Steve is entirely unbothered. 

Steve shrugs. He puts the laptop aside and walks around the counter to put his hands on Bucky’s hips, pulling him close. “You could definitely be a teacher. In all seriousness. It’s a tough job, but you’re tougher. You'd be great.”

Bucky melts a little. It should be terrifying, the effect this man has on him - and he’s only know him for what, a week? He tucks his head between Steve’s shoulder and chin and presses a soft skin to his bare skin. “Thank you.”

“Did I help?” Steve asks, all hopeful.

“Of course you did.” Bucky reaches up to kiss him. “I will actually really think about it. It's an option, right?”

“Definitely. Okay, now that we've solved that problem…” Steve trails off, his mouth curving into a suggestive grin while he hooks his thumbs under the waistband of Bucky's pyjama bottoms. 

_ “Finally!” _

They don't even make it to the bedroom, but why should they when there's a perfectly comfortable couch five feet away. And a perfectly comfortable armchair. And ottoman. 

“You know what?” Bucky says later, after they’ve made it to Steve’s king sized bed, and they’re exhausted and breathless and thoroughly sated.

“What?” Steve asks, turning his head to look at Bucky.

“I think I feel better. Our sex decathlon is working. I’m basically cured.”

Steve starts giggling and finds it hard to stop. “You think so?”

“Definitely. I think your dick is like, magical or something. I feel blessed.”

That makes Steve laugh even harder. He turns to lie on his side and flops an arm and a leg over Bucky, cuddling up next to him. “You are welcome. Anytime. I’m here for you, babe,” he mumbles, nuzzling his face into the crook of Bucky’s neck.

“Ohhhhhh. Oh my God.  _ Sexual healing. _ Steve. Do you get it? I think Marvin Gaye was onto something.”

“You are so chatty after sex, you know that?”

“What, you’re not a fan of pillow talk?”

“I didn’t say that. I was just making an observation.”

Bucky hums sarcastically. “You’re not falling asleep on me, are you?”

Steve mumbles an incoherent response which suggests he is definitely falling asleep. Bucky smiles and pushes Steve’s hair out of his eyes and runs his hand over his stubbly cheek. He decides against waking him up. It’s fairly late anyway, and he’ll probably fall asleep sooner or later. 

He puts his arm under his head and stares at the ceiling, losing himself in his thoughts. 

Part of him loves being at this house, with Steve, away from the city and everybody. It’s not like he’s solved any of his problems, but he’s managed to not worry about them constantly - between all the sun, sea, and sex, there’s hardly been any time for overthinking.  _ Clint would be so proud, _ Bucky thinks to himself with a smile. 

The other part of him is in deep denial about the fact that he’ll have to leave the vacation house at some point and head back to New York - without Steve, most probably.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> WELL IT ONLY TOOK ME LIKE 6 MONTHS BUT THAT WAS CHAPTER 5!!!! for anyone still reading, THANK YOU! please leave me a comment i appreciate your feedback so so so much
> 
> ALSO i completely forgot to mention there's a super cute edit i made for this fic which you can view [here](https://steveandbucky.tumblr.com/post/176889499715/shift-the-tide-a-stevebucky-summer-holiday-au) (and maybe reblog it too no pressure)


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